


If I Asked, Would You Come Over?

by AllThatMatters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Children, First Meetings, Gay, Libraries, M/M, School, Shyness, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25575892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllThatMatters/pseuds/AllThatMatters
Summary: Ian Gallagher needed a pencil, and Mickey Milkovich didn't want to give him one - at least, that's what he said. This is a one-off chapter of the first time Ian meets Mickey in third grade.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 128





	If I Asked, Would You Come Over?

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something short and sweet that would hit in all the right ways. I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to follow me on Twitter @WhatsaMattavich for updates or excerpts or new little stories!

The library smelt like moldy paper and cabbage, and Mickey didn’t know if it was just how books smelt when there were a lot of them together, or if it was actually just the librarian, Mrs. Taras, who was old, because Mickey _did_ know that old people _always_ smelt like moldy paper and cabbage.

There was a fly on the windowsill trying to get out into the sun but it kept banging its tiny little head into the glass as Mickey watched it, and Mickey thought he felt the same, and that maybe he should open the window…

“Mr. Milkovich,” his teacher said then, and he turned to look at her. “Pay attention to your work, please.”

A couple of the girls close by looked at him and snickered, and Mickey thought about cutting their hair while they weren’t looking before glancing down at the workbook in front of him; he felt a little shy and maybe a little stupid because they had laughed at him, but also because he didn’t know his letters very well, which meant he didn’t know the words on the page, either, which meant he didn’t _want_ to pay attention to it anymore, despite what his teacher told him to do; so he glanced around again instead, looking for the fly that must have flown away to some place better before focusing on the ugly pattern of blue flowers on his teacher’s dress, and Mickey thought he maybe actually kinda liked them, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that because flowers were for girls.

Mickey watched her and waited until she walked back towards the front of the library, and then he pulled the pocket knife his big brother Iggy had given him out from his backpack, flipping it open and promptly spending the next ten minutes carving his name into the corner of the wooden desk; he could spell _that_ at least, and he felt a little proud as he smiled at it, so he stuck his middle finger up just over the desk and aimed it at the back of those stupid girls’ heads.

“Is that supposed to spell Mickey?” a little voice said then, and Mickey jumped, shooting his middle finger under the desk before turning; there was a boy standing behind him with a book about tanks in his hands and he was covered in freckles and he had the stupidest red hair Mickey had ever seen; Mickey thought maybe he recognized him from the neighborhood and that he looked a little weird, but that was okay because Mickey liked weird things.

“It _does_ spell Mickey,” he hissed, looking around to make sure no teachers could see or hear because he didn’t want to have to go back to detention again; he didn’t like detention, because it was always just him and it was really quiet and Mickey didn’t like the quiet.

“You mixed up the C and the K,” the boy pointed out, and laughed a little. Mickey glanced down at the desk, but wasn’t sure if he was right or not; suddenly his pride disappeared and he felt stupid again as he frowned a little and rubbed at his eyebrow and felt like maybe he was going to cry, but he didn’t, because he wasn’t a pussy like his dad said he was.

“I did it on purpose!” he spat instead, and felt his cheeks go red because that always happened when he lied.

“Is that your name?”

“Yea,” he admitted, flipping his knife closed and shoving it into his jeans, which were a little dirty and had holes in them and Mickey covered one with his hand so the red-headed boy wouldn’t see.

“Cool knife,” the boy said then, and it seemed to Mickey like he really wanted to talk to him, but Mickey thought he was too big for third graders, and he _was_ a little upset now and just wanted to be left alone, even though the boy’s smile was nice and it made Mickey want to smile, too.

“Fuck off.”

Mickey felt a little bad as soon as he said that, because the red-headed boy’s face fell and his nice smile disappeared, and he turned away without saying anything else, heading back to his class at the other side of the library with his book about tanks, and even though Mickey was mean sometimes and always made other kids’ smiles disappear, he didn’t feel good this time. Mickey watched him walk away with his head down and he suddenly thought he maybe could have said something different because Mickey actually _didn’t_ want to be left alone, despite what he said, and maybe the freckly kid with the red hair had wanted to be his friend or hang out with him or something, which would be nice he thought, because nobody else ever did; everyone always ran away from him and never came to his house or asked him to have a sleepover or go to the Kash and Grab for pops after school…

-

Ian thought he might cry because his feelings were hurt but didn’t want to in front of all his classmates; so instead he sat down on the carpet and crossed his legs, opening the book he had been wanting to check-out for weeks and looking at the pictures of the different tanks from different countries and all the different men in different uniforms; he liked the men in their uniforms, and he looked around, wondering if any of the other boys in his class liked them, too, or if it was just him, and maybe there _was_ something wrong with him and what the boys said to him at recess was actually true…

He glanced back at the black-haired boy with dirt on his face and holes in his pants that he tried to hide and thought maybe he had hurt his feelings when he had told him he had spelt his name wrong, and Ian felt bad because maybe Mickey wasn’t very good at spelling, but that was okay because there were things Ian wasn’t very good at, either; and Ian also had holes in his clothes, so that was okay too, because maybe they were the same. Ian wondered if Mickey really liked Disney movies like he did, too, because his name was Mickey, like the Mouse, and that made Ian smile…

Mickey turned then and looked at him, and his blue eyes were really nice Ian thought, but also kinda scary and intense, so Ian looked away, glancing back at his book and reading about German Panzers.

“Does everyone have a book?” his teacher asked then, and Ian glanced up.

“Yes,” they all yelled, and he looked around at his classmates, trying to see what books they had gotten and if any of them were cooler than his, which he doubted.

“Then I want you to read through it,” his teacher said, “and then write me _one_ paragraph about what you found interesting about it, okay?”

Ian nodded at nobody in particular, wiping at his nose as he reached for his binder; it was blue – his favourite colour – and he had written his name in the corner in pencil when he was six but he had accidentally written Ian Galager and had forgotten there were two L’s, and an H, too. Ian thought about showing it to Mickey to make him feel better, but maybe not because he had only been six when he had made his mistake and Mickey looked like he was ten and thought that he might get mad again.

Ian just opened the binder instead, wanting to grab some paper, when he realized suddenly that his little pencil nub was gone, and he glanced around the floor to see if he could find it; but when he couldn’t, he leaned over to Angie.

“Do you have an extra pencil?” he asked, but she shook her head. “Ok,” he sighed, and didn’t want to ask the boys closest to him because they had made fun of his hair at recess and called him gay; he looked back at Mickey and thought maybe he’d like to talk to him again because he looked sad and even if he _had_ been a little mean, Fiona always said it was good to be nice to people you liked, so he got up…

-

Mickey hated this stupid school and this stupid class and he hated all the stupid people who had nicer things and nicer families; he picked up his pencil, drawing a tank in the top corner of his workbook, with men being flattened underneath of it as blood spurted out. Mickey liked drawing because you didn’t have to learn drawing really – like reading or writing – and making pictures was his way of maybe making a mark in the world, like his teacher said they should all aspire to do, even though his dad said that was _‘fucking stupid…’_

“Could I borrow a pencil?” someone asked then, and Mickey glanced sideways; the weird red-headed boy had reappeared and was standing beside Mickey’s chair, and Mickey looked at him again and thought maybe he actually really liked his freckles and funny red hair, it made him want to smile, and he wished his own looked like that and wasn’t black like his dad’s, but thinking of his dad was the wrong thing to do and it made him angry again.

“If you talk to me again, I’ll stab you,” he huffed, but he didn’t mean it; he didn’t want to ruin his freckles or hurt him or do anything really that would make his smile disappear; but instead of being sad again the boy just stared at him, and then looked down at his drawing.

“That looks like a German Panzer,” he said, and Mickey didn’t know what that meant but he was happy the boy hadn’t left yet. “It’s pretty good!” Mickey _did_ know that this boy talked a lot and wasn’t very quiet, and Mickey liked that. “I’m Ian,” he said, and Mickey thought that little name suited him, but he didn’t tell him that, he just looked at him, knowing he was supposed to be mean maybe but nobody ever spoke to him and he felt like Ian talking to him was nice.

“I don’t have an extra pencil,” Mickey admitted instead, and thought maybe he could give Ian his, but that was something a pussy would do probably, and besides, it was the only one he had to draw with because his dad wouldn’t get him new ones.

“That’s okay,” Ian said then, nicely, and shrugged, turning away again to go back to his place on the floor. Mickey watched him, and liked the way Ian wasn’t scared of him because that made him want Ian to come back and talk to him some more so maybe Mickey could tell him things, because Mickey never got to tell people how he felt…

“Alright!” his teacher called then, and she sounded really close suddenly so Mickey closed his workbook quickly, worried she might see that he hadn’t done his work at all but he _had_ drawn a tank that Ian said looked like a German Panzer and thought was pretty good. “Pack up your stuff and we’ll head back to class.”

All his classmates stood up then, packing their books and pencils away before lining up at the side door that took them out into the yard. Mickey didn’t like being in crowds really so he packed slowly and made sure his pencil was safe inside his backpack before looking once more at Ian and thinking he must be really good at reading because he was flipping through the pages really fast, and maybe if they were friends one day Ian would teach him how to read or at least wouldn’t make fun of him for not being able to and would maybe like him just the way he was...

Mickey waited until everyone had past him and he was at the back of the line, and when they all headed out the door and nobody was looking, he went to Mrs. Taras’s desk and opened her top drawer, stealing a yellow box of pre-sharpened pencils from inside before running to the back of the library and dropping it down onto Ian’s blue binder and not even thinking about keeping any for himself; Ian looked up at him from the floor and he smiled a little bit, which for some reason made Mickey’s heart flutter a little bit, too, before he turned and ran out into the sun.


End file.
